


Somebody Pinch Me

by DoreyG



Category: Dark Shadows (2012)
Genre: A bit like the movie, Angelique being manipulative all over the place, Community: kink_bingo, Cunnilingus, Dream!Sex, F/F, Fingering, Future Fic, Instructions in fairly good sex, Slightly weird, sleepy/unconscious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She dreams of her in the old mansion, the one that burned down <i>ages</i> ago. Her blonde hair is haloed out around her head, her glittering red dress falls down her thighs as she temptingly raises her leg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody Pinch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sleepy/Unconscious square of my Kink_Bingo, and thus completing all the ones I can actually manage! (For the good of the universe, I'm afraid that I'd be a bit (very) rubbish at doing the others.) This is probably the oddest pairing I could've got out of the movie, and I apologize for that sincerely. Carolyn is asleep through most of this, assume that Angelique is visiting her through magic or something!
> 
> ...Also! It should be noted that this is a future fic and Carolyn is 21 and thus completely legal _everywhere_ (that I'm aware of)!

She dreams of her in the old mansion, the one that burned down _ages_ ago. Her blonde hair is haloed out around her head, her glittering red dress falls down her thighs as she temptingly raises her leg.

“You _have_ grown pretty, haven’t you?”

And this is impossible, (the bitch died with the house, after all) and this is improbable and this is _dangerous_ since Angie (Angelique) has always carried this certain hoity-toity air of darkness with her wherever she goes…

But she takes a step closer anyway, watches that purring smirk curve even wider, “why are you here?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Wider and _wider_ \- and if she thought her fanged smile was wide every full moon then she suddenly knows that it has _nothing_ on the thing spreading across Angie’s face, “I wanted to see how pretty you’d gotten. It’s been _ages_ since I last checked up, after all.”

“Because you’re dead,” she says flatly anyway.

“Death is _relative_ ” …It still doesn’t stop the curving.

She takes one step closer to her old bed, two steps closer to her old bed. Finally finds herself falling besides it, Angie looking down at her with a smugly raised eyebrow that seems to be saying a thousand things in a language that she can’t quite understand.

“And there may have been another reason…”

“Oh?”

“To taste how pretty you’ve gotten,” Angie’s hand, that hand she saw (half dreamed, by that point) breaking into porcelain then ash _ages_ ago, reaches down – coils casually around a lock of her hair in a way that _should_ have her violently yanking away and possibly even turning into the wolf for a bit of _safety_ , “now that you’re legal, and all. Twenty one years old – who _ever_ thought that you’d get this far?”

“…Taste,” she still doesn’t pull away.

“Legal and most certainly _not_ a virgin,” And Angie’s smirk grows yet again, “you know very well what I mean.”

She hesitates for a moment… And finds herself sitting on the corner of her bed, Angie propped up on her elbows and staring at her in an almost _amused_ way, “it was more a question.”

Angie’s eyes flash, “It didn’t _sound_ like a question, my dearest darling wolf girl.”

“I’m a rebel, I rarely do the conventional thing,” and, okay, _maybe_ she’s touched herself and thought about those eyes a few times in the past. Big whoop. Just a little explanation as to why she’s slowly leaning towards them “…Why do you want to taste me?”

“You really _don’t_ pay attention, do you?” And, _alright_ , maybe she’s _also_ touched herself and thought about that long throat leaning back a few times in the past. It’s a free country, “because you’ve grown pretty-“

“No,” she has to interrupt, scraping her heels against the floor and not feeling a single thing, “not that. You’ve never showed any interest in me before.”

“You were a child.”

“You’ve never showed any interest in _women_ before.”

“It was barely acceptable even in the seventies, you learn to be _discreet_ over a few centuries.”

“You’ve only ever showed interest in _Barnabas_ before-“

“My _dearest_ wolf girl,” and suddenly Angie’s fingers are in her hair again, Angie is sitting up and staring at her with those eyes and that smirk and a certain _cunning_ expression that tempts her even as it makes her want to run _far_ away, “have you ever considered the possibility that I was attracted to the _name_ instead of the man bearing it?”

“…What?”

“Your lot are _remarkably_ tempting as a family,” Angie only purrs, leans closer still until those eyes and that smirk are the only things in the universe, “every single one of you. Barnabas was only the one I met _first_.”

She stares for a long moment.

Suddenly, she supposes she must’ve been tugged or something, finds herself sprawled over Angie’s body – every one of those glorious curves pressed up against her as she lets a gasp _hiss_ through her teeth, “s-so you’re saying that…?”

“Love, my dearest wolf girl?” Angie’s head tilts, a touch mockingly. Her long fingers count teasingly down her ribs, “I thought you were too _modern_ for such a concept.”

“Shut up, of course I am,” she mutters, and blushes blotchily red like she hasn’t done for _ages_ (roughly since the house burned down, and Angie crumbled away into porcelain then ash),”I _meant_ : you’re saying that you’re honestly attracted to me?”

“Oh my dearest wolf girl,” Angie’s smirk somehow widens even further, like she’s just been handed the keys to another city, “who wouldn’t be?”

The kiss is sort of expected, though sort of unexpected at the same time (oh _God_ ), and yet she allows it. Leans into it, even. Presses down and slides her fingers into Angie’s blonde curls and allows their tongues to entwine at the tiniest nudge and good fuck _yes_.

“…Really?”

“Oh don’t constantly fish for compliments,” Angie huffs amusedly as she draws back, captures her hand with her own, “it really turns a woman off in bed.”

She smiles, a touch shakily-

And then Angie is guiding her hand down, down further than she’s ever been on any woman (and further than she’s been with _most_ guys), until she can push up that glittering red dress. Feel the pure _softness_ of Angie’s skin under her (alright, _fine_ ) slightly uncertain fingertips.

…She-

“It’s alright, you know,” tries to relax, as Angie kisses her again and whispers (sugar sweet) into her mouth, “it’s _wonderful_. You can touch if you want.”

…And gulps, as Angie kisses her again.

“Please?”

And-

_And_ -

Obeys, still _possibly_ in the shakiest of ways. Slides her hands up further and further until she can turn her palm and gently brush against the silky skin of Angie’s inner thighs, tilt her head slowly up to watch that blonde head falling back again and those eyes fluttering shut and _everything_ falling into a sort of brilliance.

It’s enough to get her taking in a deep breath, moving her hand upwards until she discovers a certain slick place that makes Angie _sigh_.

Sigh…

She hasn’t done this to many other girls, _any_ other girls to tell truth, but she still has the stolen moments with a locked door and her own fingers so she supposes that _that’s_ a good place to start. She draws in a deep breath, starts slowly rubbing her fingers up and down in a way that _should_ create some sort of friction.

(She hopes, oh god she-)

…It oddly seems to _work_.

Angie trembles gently under her hands. Keeps sighing, keeps her eyes shut, even _lifts_ her hips to give easier access. Her legs are pale all the way down under her dress, almost _hypnotizing_ to look at as she keeps gently rubbing and hoping for the very best.

…Which is, truly, Angie happy underneath her.

And Angie’s eyelashes dark against her cheeks.

And Angie’s smirk going slightly soft around the edges in a truly pleased, _so_ pleased, way…

As her hand comes down, gently (somehow gently) catches her still rubbing one in a firm grip, “wonderful, my darling wolf girl, but what would you say to stepping it up a notch?”

“U-up a notch?” She says instead, digging the nails of her free hand into her palm to stop herself from going _bright_ red _again_.

Angie only lets her smirk fade fully into a smile, uses that firm grip on her hand to pull her up and twist her around and press her in and- and-

_Ah_.

Angie gives a little _mewl_ under her, properly bucks her hips. Her eyes slide closed again, her grip tightens, her red lips slide open on a _hard_ gasp. Suddenly everything is hot and tight: that chest falling up and down, that throat permanently constricted on _whines_ , those smooth legs properly _shuddering_ around her-

“Keep your hand there,” a sharp order snapping swiftly down to her ears, “for fuck’s sake, girl, keep your hand _there_.”

…And she does.

Resumes her rubbing right _there_ , right over the place that makes Angie _almost_ lose control. Keeps up the pace. Dares to go a little harder. Listens to those whines and whimpers and gasps and even _screeches_ echoing so prettily (so stunningly, for Angie has always been that) above…

Reaches up an almost timid hand to brush over Angie’s breast.

And she’s never been in this sort of position to watch somebody come before, has only been crushed tightly into the back of a car a few nights before the full moon, but… She supposes she wouldn’t _mind_ being there again. Angie’s entire body goes stiff for a moment, and then she _screams_ her release and suddenly everything is boneless – a careless witch practically sprawling off her bed with lazily lidded eyes.

“Alright?” She asks, still a touch nervous but _never_ ready to admit it out loud.

“More than alright,” Angie only purrs in reply, and uses that suddenly lax grip to pull her up, “rather of the opinion that you deserve a _reward_ for that pleasure, _actually_.”

They kiss for a long second: blissful and messy and _glorious_.

And then she finds herself on her back, her legs slightly spread as Angie settles down between them with _another_ one of those smirks, “a big reward.”

“What-?”

The first lick is also, _okay_ a surprise - but a _so motherfucking good_ one. Immediately her head is tipping back into the groove that Angie made just a few seconds before, already her fingers are fisting desperately into the sheets. For this is damned _bliss_ and she can do nothing but tremble towards it.

Angie follows up her initial lick with a few shorter licks, oh _God_. Pauses for a deliberate moment, she can _feel_ that hot air against her, before shifting slightly up and gently pushing apart her folds.

And-

_Fuck_!

Angie’s mouth closes around her so-something, that half mythical clitoris she _supposes_ , and gently starts to suck. Moving her tongue at the same time. Staying generally still in a way that makes everything go _white_ : makes her shaky and weak and without control of her tongue because it’s so fucking good and she just can’t _stop_ babbling.

This continues for a few moments-

_Fuck_ …

-Until she’s shaking and breathless and _right_ on the edge.

And then Angie releases her, with one final fond swirl of her tongue, and moves lower yet again. Apparently tracing the alphabet as she goes: there a ‘B’, there an ‘A’, there an ‘R’, there an ‘N’…

Odd things to be tracing, she will admit.

But then Angie’s tongue reaches her entrance, oh _fuck_ , and presses in, oh _God_ , and slowly starts to move in circles there, oh _fucking God_ , and then gently starts to thrust, oh _motherfuck_ , and then is joined by a finger, oh _motherfucking God in heaven and on earth and wherever else he chooses to fucking roam_ , and- and-

_Yes_.

The orgasm hits harder than ever before, sends her just as boneless and blissful as Angie was but a few minutes earlier. Her entire world goes brilliantly white for a long moment before she narrowly manages to drag herself back, glory humming in every vein.

…Angie draws back from between her thighs with yet another smirk, a purred, “ _my_ dearest wolf.”

And then slides up her body. Kisses her again in the sweetest way possible.

“That was-“ she just, _just_ , about manages to pant when they finally part – Angie’s lips still slick and _still_ smirking as she draws back yet again, “that was- that was actually _amazing_ …”

“Good,” Angie purrs, and leans close to her ear with those still slick red lips, “tell _very_ dearest Barnabas that I’m waiting for him, little wolf girl. And tell him that hell is hot, hell is _burning_ and will rip his precious flesh from his bones, but that my _fury_ will be hotter yet.”

…Wh-what?

Angie smiles-

 

\--

 

And she wakes up in her small bed in New York. Cold and alone and _spent_ with an almost-full moon glinting through the window above.


End file.
